Journey to Ninnyhammer
by Rhiannon Mfaraka
Summary: Though only one chapter is up at the moment, more is to follow. Look out for falling geshrats.


**Journey to Ninnyhammer**

"What is there to be known about the sea except the sea itself?"

-Solarious Asael

"What's going on?" Gwen shouted to the captain, clinging to the rail. This was a storm like no other, and being in the middle of the ocean didn't help any. Rain water and sea water flowed over the deck, threatening to wash supplies and crew into the angry frothing sea. Fifteen-year-old Gwendolyn Perizada was not enjoying her first ocean voyage.

"Storm's getting worse!" the captain yelled back, clamping his old battered hat down on his head with one hand, stopping objects from flying overboard with the other. "You better get below deck, Gwen!"

Gwen started away from the rail, when something in the water caught her eye. It was a huge emerald fish, staring up at her with all too intelligent eyes, crimson that gleamed silver below the surface. Gwen's heart raced.

"Captain!" she screamed, pointing at the fish. Was it one of the sea monsters the crew told stories about? The captain fought his way though the rain, squinting to see what Gwen was yelling about. His face turned a chalky white as he saw the fish.

Gwen suddenly noticed how the whole ocean had somehow changed in the few moments since she saw the huge fish. The rain slackened, quickly disappearing back into the stormy grey sky. Looking back down at the fish, she saw it submerge until it could not longer be seen.

"That, Gwen," said the captain shakily, "was a Mantizac." Gwen asked no questions about what a Mantizac was. The captain looked perplexed enough, and she wasn't going to add to his stress by pestering him with questions.

Strolling across the deck, she sidled up to the ship's navigator, Lawrence. Lawrence was a tall bony man, black as oil, with large brown eyes and straight white teeth. He had long black curly hair that he kept tied back in a taught ponytail, and had braided beads and shells and bits of fabric into it.

"Where are we?" Gwen questioned Lawrence. He of all people should know.

Lawrence looked down at Gwen with an odd expression. "Izabella," he breathed, his gaze turning to the choppy green-blue water surrounding them.

"Where's that?" Gwen persisted. She hoped they were close to land. The Mantizac or whatever it was called scared her. If there was one, there were probably more. She could just imagine scores of huge glossy green sharp-toothed fish swimming in the underwater shadow of the ship.

"You listen heah, chil'," Lawrence addressed her with a surprisingly gruff tone, his Cajun accent not softening his words. "Nevah ask questions ya don' wanna know th' answer to."

Gwen was righteously unnerved. The whole crew was acting antsy and short-tempered. After a storm, they were usually in high spirits, glad that it was over. There was an air of uneasiness that made Gwen shiver.

Suddenly, the boat lurched, sending several men overboard. A huge scaly head rose out of the water, studying the crew with disdain. Water and seaweed dripped off its smirking mug, and there were things stuck in its teeth. Things Gwen didn't particularly want to identify.

"Why, if it isn't the _Salt Surf_ herself," the behemoth boomed in a voice so deep the windows of the cabin rattled. "You still owe me payment from last time I let you pass." Its disgusting yellow eyes narrowed, fixating on the captain. It stank of dead things and low tide, its breath more nauseating than a garbage dump in the middle of a July afternoon.

"A- And we have her, as promised!" the captain shouted back in a terrified voice. He grabbed Gwen roughly by the arm and shoved her forward. Gwen fainted.

Instead of awakening in the clutches (or stomach) of a dragon, Gwen was startled to find herself in a small red boat hastily making its way towards something that looked like a huge stone head sticking out of the water. Rubbing her blurred eyes, Gwen sat up and looked around her. She was even more surprised to see an elderly woman sitting on the bench across from her. The woman smiled.

"Ah, so I see you've woken up," she said in a kind voice. "It's a good thing I got to you when I did, or you might be dragon chow right now." She laughed softly at her own joke, but Gwen, being the potential 'dragon chow', didn't find it so funny.

"Who are you?" Gwen asked. The woman had long braided hair, snow white, and her skin was wrinkled with age. Dark concerned eyes stared out from a soft face, wizened by years of experience.

"I am Diamanda," the woman answered, smiling gently. "And who would you be, my dear?"  
"Gwen Perizada," Gwen mumbled, staring down at her sodden shoes. Her name was a laughable one, being so strange. But the woman didn't laugh. She stared gravely at Gwen with unnerving seriousness.

"Perizada?" she said, sounding awed. "Do you know what Perizada means?" Gwen shook her head. She had never been very interested in knowing the origin of her surname, unlike many people who researched their last name, then came to school bragging about how they were Irish royalty or the descendant of an infamous sheik. She knew Perizada was probably Italian, but had never bothered to confirm this.

"Perizada," the old woman said, closing her eyes. "Perizada means 'one related to fairies'." Gwen shrugged. Though that was a slightly interesting fact, it hardly mattered. Fairies weren't real, after all. They were simply creations of the mind, nothing more. But something nagged at Gwen, questioning her beliefs. What if fairies did exist? After all, if a dragon could exist, couldn't fairies? Or was this all just a twisted dream, the result of eating cheese before bed? Would she wake up to find herself back on the _Salt Surf_?

She pondered these things the rest of the trip. Neither she nor the old woman spoke again until they reached the base of the huge head.

"We're here," Dimanda announced. "Yebba Dim Day, the Great Head. You'd better set your watch to 8 pm, dear. It's always eight o' clock here." She prattled on with useless trivia about the island, but Gwen heard none of it. She was far too busy studying the fantastic architecture of the place. There was a wide staircase going up the chest and neck of the island, up the side of the head until it reached the crown, where six towers stuck up like radioactive growths. Small houses and shops cluttered the island, and Gwen could hear sounds very similar to those in the market places back where she had come from. Shouts advertising whatever they were selling, laughing and screaming children, animal noises. There were also sounds she didn't recognize. Guttural grunts that seemed to be a language of their own, squeals and shrieks of animals Gwen had never fathomed, and others mixed into the dull roar of Yebba Dim Day.

"Where are we?" Gwen breathed, her voice quiet. Diamanda smiled.

"Yebba Dim Day, dear. I've told you," she said.

"But… where is Yebba Dim Day?"

Diamanda gave her a strange look. "The Abarat," she said, getting back into the small boat. "Well, I'd like to stay with you, but I must get back to Odom's Spire. Take care, child." And with those few words, the old woman was sailing off, back into the murky blue water of the Sea of Izabella.


End file.
